Call Him "Crazy"

"He called me up because he's of Samoan background and he's very proud of that, and there were two Samoan players in that game, Troy Polamalu for the Steelers and Lofa Tatupu for the Seahawks," D.A. recalls. "And he just burst upon the scene like a comet. I mean, at one point, we had no Crazy Ray, and a week later, everyone knew who he was."

"I grew up listening to Howard Stern, and I'm a huge Stern fan, so I realize the comedy in the little spark you can get from callers like that," Ballow says.

Ray's name on D.A.'s list of waiting callers became a running joke. D.A. would take the call, wonder how Ray got past the screener and pretend to berate Ballow for being fooled again.

D.A.: Roy is on his cell phone. Good morning, Roy, you're on The D.A. Show.

RAY (trying to make his voice different, and failing): Good morning, D.A.

D.A.: How are you, Roy?

RAY: This is Roy. One letter away from Ray.

D.A.: Wait a second! This is Crazy Ray!

RAY: Good morning, D.A., how are you today?

D.A.: Why did you trick us?

RAY: We just left Wal-Mart, and I asked where David Glass was.

D.A.: Wait a second, Roy, Ray, Raymond, Samoan, how did you trick us?

RAY: I was wondering if you'd like to go to, I'd like to request a place for you to go on your vacation next week. Why not the island of Western Samoa, Paradise? You can go and swim for free. I want to talk about the coincidence about the Kansas City Royals baseball. Hello?

D.A.'s affection for his callers deviates from the standard sports-talk-radio format. In bigger markets or on nationally syndicated sports-radio shows like The Jim Rome Show (which broadcasts on 610), hosts ridicule their callers, debate them or hang up on them if they don't get to the point quickly.

"Ray-Ray knows his rosters. He definitely watches his sports and knows his history of teams," D.A. says. "Are his takes usually accurate? Well, it depends. I mean, arguing about sports is usually just an exercise in entertainment. Two totally credible people could see the same game, play or player two different ways. But for the most part, Ray is in the vicinity."

In 2003, the Chiefs went undefeated for the first 10 games of the season. That year, Ray's brother Joe and some of Joe's friends took him to his first Chiefs game out of town, at Cincinnati's Paul Brown Stadium. Ray wore his Tony Gonzalez jersey, which the home crowd didn't appreciate. Bengals fans heckled number 88 and jeered Ray.

"We were losing at the time, so they were yelling, and Ray took it personal," says Joe, now 31. "I told him, you know, it's not personal — everyone's having fun. But Ray couldn't differentiate."

Joe ended up getting between Ray and a Bengals fan. "I grabbed somebody, I think, around the neck, and I pushed Ray out of the way," he says, grinning at the memory. "We took Ray back to the hotel and got him some ice cream or whatever, and we went back to the game."

The Chiefs lost, 24-19.

Joe is sitting with his father, Joe Ulberg Sr., in the airy living room of Joe Jr.'s house in Independence. The elder Ulberg is wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt, and his strong, tan calf muscles bulge below wide-legged shorts. A green expanse of golf course beams from a flat-screen TV on mute. Ulberg speaks softly, with a gentle Samoan accent.

"He was about 2 years old when we got him," Ulberg says of Ray. "We were foster parents."

Someone had discovered Ray wandering alone around Kansas City International Airport, eating discarded french fries, and reported him to the Missouri Department of Social Services.

Joe Jr. remembers Ray's caseworker saying that Ray's birth parents were homeless and mildly retarded, living in boxcars. When Ray went to live with the Ulbergs, he was skinny and had to be taught not to pick through the garbage when he was hungry. Eventually, the family adopted him. The Ulbergs say they don't know where Ray's birth parents are.

Ulberg came to the United States from the Samoan Islands when he was 18. He landed in Compton, California, but eventually moved to Independence, where, according to the 2000 U.S. Census, .4 percent of the population is Samoan. He served in the U.S. Army and competed as a boxer, entering Tough Man and Golden Gloves competitions before meeting his wife, Carol, and having two sons, Joe and Jason.

When Ray was 8, Ulberg sent him to Samoa for a year, where he learned traditional dances and customs.